


A Jewel Among The Cobblestones

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 06:18:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Private Jeffrey Ames, Aide to Major Kevin Richards.  An absolute dear.    Young, gawky, sparkling blue eyes, with a grin that could probably light up the night sky.  Meghada KNEW what drew her to the young man; it was how much he reminded her of Andrew Carter, Peter Newkirk's young friend, in his odd mixture of innocence and wisdom and enthusiasm.  Well, along with how much he reminded her of her brothers, in his quickness of thought and his inventiveness.  And her sisters, with that wide and unexpected devious streak.  And, let's face it, he sometimes reminded her of HERSELF, in more than a few ways.  Considering all that, what wasn't there to like?   The Clan had always been appreciative of those of the Outlanders who were truly jewels strewn among the cobblestones.  Now, just a little fancy footwork on her part, and with Sweet Mother Erdu's blessing, perhaps, just perhaps  . . .





	A Jewel Among The Cobblestones

He was tall and gangling, with rusty hair that needed a haircut by someone who actually knew what they were doing (unlike whoever had wielded the scissors previously, who might have a great future as an avant garde artist but NOT as a barber!) and had a grin that had to be seen to be believed. He projected innocence and wisdom and enthusiasm in an almost frightening combination. Meghada decided now that he reminded her of Andrew, the Professor's young friend. And that was a shock; she'd thought there was only one Andrew Carter floating around, though she thought the world would be certainly the better for a few more.

And Jeffrey had a concealed devious streak that enchanted her. She hadn't coached him about what she was going to do when he brought in that tray with the super hot coffee she'd requested; she hadn't given him any indication of her intentions, at least not on purpose and she wasn't usually so easy for anyone but family to read. In fact, she HADN'T tripped him; oh, she had intended to, certainly, figuring to take full blame later, protect him from any repercussions; was actually easing into position to do so when she caught his eye, and she knew what he was going to do! And just like that, her plan came together, much easier than if she'd worked it alone. Bless his heart! 

She'd talked to Kevin and the Major had agreed the boy couldn't help tripping, certainly wouldn't have done so intentionally, especially in the presence of so many superior officers, that someone had their big fat feet in the way and just didn't want to admit to it; she'd said "it might even have been me, though I don't think so, but I was certainly close enough that it could have been," and Kevin had looked at her face, her eyes, and knew what her intentions had been from the beginning.

He had made sure there were no repercussions, other than a small lecture on watching his footing better in the future. Of course, the fact that, as a preface to the lecture, the Major had poured a small glass of whisky for himself, and absentmindedly poured one for Jeffrey at the same time, pushing it toward the rather apprehensive young man, well, that might have negated any beneficial results from that lecture, accompanied as it was by a slightly wicked grin on both their faces, though they both made a determined effort not to meet each others eyes. This was supposed to be a disciplinary meeting; it would hardly do if any passersby heard hysterical laughter coming from his office.

Yes, Private Jeffrey Ames was someone she liked, and Meghada just didn't like all that many people. She decided the young man was someone worth knowing better, and whenever she was in London, she would stop by Kevin Richards' office to say hello, and would usually end up perched on the side of that outside desk, chatting for a goodly amount of time. But even she never anticipated the outcome of that visit on a Friday, late in May. Oh, she may have had some wistful thoughts, but that was all. Really. Just ask her.

"Yes, I know, Ian, you have better and more pleasant things to do than a visit at HQ; well, you offered to squire me around for the day, and this is one of the stops on my list, so gird your loins in patience and take a deep breath. I promise I won't be long; I just have to convince Kevin to keep Julie in tight reins with the fashionable set now on parade again; I will NOT be dragged into another fiasco like the last time! Besides, if Jeffrey is there, you just might like meeting him. He's rather an original, and an absolute dear!"

Her brother heaved a deep sigh and gave her a look of disgust, "I still say I could wait for you in the car," but subsided at her rather fierce frown. "Alright, alright, let's go make nice with Kevin and meet the 'absolute dear'; just don't expect me to make conversation with any of the others; you know how well I get on with the military types!"

"Yes, dear, I know," she snickered, remembering with relish some of the stories from his previous encounters. Ian had a rather interesting history of depressing the ambitions of those who thought to encroach upon his personal space, female and male alike. 

They found Kevin Richards away at a meeting, not due back til late afternoon, and Private Jeffrey Ames just ready to leave his desk.

"Jeffrey, did we catch you on your lunch break? I'm sorry, I can drop by some other time, unless you'd let us TAKE you to lunch; I'd like that," only to get his regretful explanation.

"Not on my way to lunch, haven't enough time for that AND my errand. It's my sister Charlotte's birthday next week, and I've been thinking of the perfect present and I've just been waiting til I have the time to go get it."

His eyes opened even wider, and that grin, the one that Ian was finding rather blinding when taken in concert with the glow in those amazingly blue eyes, got bigger and more intense, if that was possible.

"You like music, Major Richards told me; said you write a lot, and collect some too. Have you been to Mr. Davinelli's place? It's just a couple of blocks away, and while the front, that's just regular sheet music, music books, that sort of thing, he's got this back room, and you just have to see it to believe it."

The young man rambled on, with great enthusiasm, and brother and sister exchanged a grin.

"I haven't, Jeffrey, though it sounds quite something else."

And when he gleefully suggested they come with him, to get a personal introduction and tour, they didn't hesitate.

Ian was thinking to himself, {"yes, definitely an original; I haven't smiled so much, to mean it, anyway, in quite some time."} The walk was amazingly short with as much fun as they were all having in their conversation, and they garnered more than a few smiles of amusement from the passersby as they made their way to the old brick building, the tall gangling redhead in military dress, the slightly shorter young man, more sturdily built with the dark hair touched with auburn, in civilian attire, and the young woman, deep red hair showing to perfection by the chocolate brown trousers and top she wore.

Mr. Davinelli greeted them absently, and at Jeffrey's words, just waved them to the back room, "yes, yes, go right ahead. I have to find that copy of . . ." and his voice trailed off.

Jeffrey chuckled, "don't take offense; he's like that, he gets so involved in whatever he's doing, sometimes I think he'd prefer customers didn't even come in. Oh, not like us, the ones for the back room. THAT'S something he thinks is worthwhile; the front, well, it's what the average person would expect, and he just doesn't much care for the 'average person'," all with another one of those grins. "Mother discovered this place years and years ago; she says he was the same back then."

He paused at a dark green drapery, and pulled it aside, ushering them. He turned on the one small light at the entrance and they stopped in amazement - rack after rack after rack, floor to ceiling, placed apparently as to get as many as possible in the wide room, separated only by narrow aisles, all filled with books and folders and stacks of loose sheets.

"There's a ladder there in the corner," Jeffrey said as he flicked on the overhead lights. Now they could see there was some organization to this mass of material, labels on the ends of the racks and on the front of the shelves. Still, it was a remarkable sight.

Meghada turned to Jeffrey, "and why back here? Surely he'd get more purchases if he kept some of this in the front, or had the back opened up to sight," only to have Jeffrey give a gleeful snort.

"And if he wanted to sell any of this, you'd be right, of course. But he really DOESN'T want to, not really. Oh, you can CONVINCE him, but you have to tell him why you want a particular piece, if it's for you or for someone else, and if so, are they the sort to really appreciate the piece, and lots of other stuff. He rather thinks of it as adopting out a puppy or kitten; he wants to make sure his music has a good home." And the three of them shared a look of delight at that idea. 

She frowned just a bit at the far off crash and boom, and the slight shudder under their feet and looked at Jeffrey inquiringly.

"Oh, they're doing construction and repairs on the building behind this one. Been at it for weeks now; should think they'd be done by now, but when I walked that way, can't see that they've made all that much progress. Well, this section of town was built pretty much all at the same time; I shouldn't wonder if they didn't find some surprises when they get below the surface."

They each started browsing, finding things of interest, pulling things off the shelf, wandering here and there, calling out to each other as they found some special treasure, rather losing track of the time, til Meghada remembered.

"Jeffrey, when do you have to be back . . .' and just then there was another, even bigger crash and boom, and the slight shudder became a heavy lurch, and dust was in the air, and racks starting to tip, and the floor disappeared from beneath them, and then the lights went out, both literally and figuratively.

In the front room, the slight stooped figure of Mr. Davinelli laid motionless beside a now toppled display of modern show tunes for piano and pianoforte, the plaster piano that had been perched on top in pieces beside his head, shards still showing in the thin gray hair.

***  
Major Richards was mildly annoyed; he'd come back from his meeting wanting to dictate some notes to his Aide only to find that outside desk empty of human life, most particularly not being occupied by Private Ames, as it surely should be. Richards took another look at his watch; no, not quite time for Ames to go off duty, though close. Still, never had the boy duck out early; wasn't a clockwatcher at all; sometimes had to chase him out if he thought Richards might need him.

He phoned down to the security desk.

"Yes, sir, he signed out about 11:30; left with that redhaired miss who's about some to see you and another young man. No, sir, he hasn't come back in." And Richards frowned, now in puzzlement. He knew Meghada had a liking for Private Ames, a sort of big sister - little brother thing, and truthfully, after that coffee episiode, he could rather see that; sometimes the resemblance was rather unnerving. But she'd be unlikely to lure him away from his duty, and frankly he couldn't see the Private allowing himself to be lured away.

He walked out to the desk again, staring down, this time reaching down to flip open the notebook the Private always had close at hand. "Mr Davinelli's - pick up gift for Charlotte" he read out loud. That note had today's date by it; perhaps that was where he'd been headed. But why wasn't he back?

The phone rang in his office, "no, it's alright, put him through." After a small delay, "Yes, Patrick. Yes, according to the security desk she was here with a man, and seems to have made off with my Aide. Ian? Oh, was that who it was? Well, do you have any idea where they might have absconded to with him? I rather need him back, the war effort and all?"

He listened with some concern as Meghada and Ian's older brother expressed his own concern, those two supposed to meet with him over two hours ago.

"Well, the only thing I can think . . . Here, Patrick, hang on. I want to make a fast call, see if I can find out something. Yes, certainly." He switched to a different line, "get me the phone number for a Mr.Davinelli, somewhere here in London, probably pretty close," {"well, it would have to be, if he intended getting there and back and picking up whatever he went for within his lunch break."} "Yes, try ringing through." He waited, and the response that came back, "no answer? But if it's a business, surely; very well, what's the address?" He scribbled on a note pad and went back to the phone.

"Patrick? Sorry to keep you waiting. I think they may have been headed for" and he gave the address, "there's no answer on the phone, and I'm headed there right now; this doesn't feel right. Boy's not a slacker, dependable as they come, and after that McDaniels mess . . . Very well, I'll see you there." He hurriedly straightened his jacket, grabbed his cap and left, this time being sure to let the security guard know where he was headed. If there was trouble waiting, he wanted to leave a solid trail.

He pulled up to the corner just as Patrick came around the other. They nodded in greeting, made their way throught the door, and stopped dead at the dust and broken glass and the crumpled form of an elderly man on the floor. The broken plaster display was evidence enough as to the cause of his injuries. Patrick went to the fallen man while Richards looked around, trying for some sign of the others. He pushed aside that green curtain, and total chaos greeted his eyes.

"Patrick! Call for help. An ambulance, certainly, but it looks like an earthquake struck back here, and if those three were in amongst all that . . .!" Patrick dashed for the phone, pausing only to take a quick glance at where the Major was staring, and paled at the thought of his brother and sister amongst that lot! 

***  
"I think I can make my way toward the entrance, if I'm careful."

Ian looked at the mess, and could see what she had in mind. They hadn't been together, probably a good twelve feet separating them, but she was within eyeshot of them, if she craned her neck to the left a little.

"Yes, that way should be alright. Be careful," he warned, and she nodded in agreement. But she hadn't gotten three feet when that damnable boom, blast, crash came again, and all the rubble shifted, some closing up holes that had been there, some coming down to crush what lay beneath.

"Is everyone okay?" she cried urgently.

"Yeah, big sister, we're okay," more than relieved at her voice, since she was no longer in his range of vision, "but I don't know that we're going anywhere for awhile, at least til they stop whatever the bloody hell they're doing over there!" Ian replied. 

She heaved a frustrated sigh; he was right, she knew that; the last movement of the racks and debris proved that. She slowly moved her way toward where she knew her brother had ended up, him and Jeffrey Ames. They hadn't been together, any of them, when the mayhem started, but Ian had eased his way over to the faint voice of the young private once the dust started to settle. Jeffrey had been injured; well, he'd said he was fine, 'just a scratch', but Meghada had heard that far too many times from Craig Garrison to take much stock in the claim. She rounded what she had thought was the last big pile of rubble, thinking how much that old man would grieve for his lost 'puppies', and found a huge pile between her and where she thought the two young men were.

"Ian, talk to me; I need to get your direction," and the voice came back, close if muffled. She breathed a sigh of relief; she had to be within a mere couple of feet now, and truly, that's what it was. As she wriggled through a small opening that made her slightly sick at the idea of entering, she emerged on a small clearing, free of debris for the most part, the racks thankfully having decided to topple AWAY from that corner and the sunken floor no more than a foot or so down from where it had been, and occupied by her younger brother and Private Ames. Stuck halfway through, she turned on her back and let them pull her the rest of the way through. 

"Hello, lads," she greeted them with warm smile of relief, receiving the same in return.

"Wasn't sure you'd be able to make it through, m'am," Jeffrey Ames said.

"Jeffrey," she laughed, "I think you might as well start calling me Meghada; surely we've no need to stand on formality after all we've been through together," and he gave her an impish grin in return.

"As you say, Meghada. What do we do now?"

"Now, we wait, at least til those bloody machines stop all that pounding and crashing about! Makes no sense otherwise; that spot I was just ready to crawl through? It all came crashing down; doubt a mouse could get through now," not mentioning what would have happened to said mouse if it had been trying when said crash had happened. Ian met her eye, though, knowing just that little thing, and the brother and sister shared that grim thought, before shaking it off and going on to more important things, like how to best survive the next few hours. The problem was, they didn't know how long they'd been unconscious, or what time the construction stopped, so that was all pretty much in the air. Still, you did what you could with what you had, they both knew that.

She pulled closer. "Ian, you're alright?" relieved to get a smiling nod.

"Jeffrey, what about you? Seems you took some damage, dear," noting the blood in his hair and on his forehead, and the sheen of pain in those bright blue eyes.

"I've checked him, well, as best as I can in here. Seems to be a long graze on his skull, which he assures me is as thick as they come, and perhaps a couple of ribs bunged up. I've threatened him with a good welting if he's having me on, so I think he's being straight," Ian proclaimed.

She looked closely at the young man leaning up against her brother, "and I second that, Jeffrey. Don't be pulling a Craig Garrison on us now; I don't want to hear 'I'M FINE!' if you're not. I may have to put up with that from him, at least til I get him retrained, but I've no such compunctions with you," and those bright blue eyes laughed at her in appreciation of the obviously mock bullying tone.

"I wouldn't dream of it! He's right; I banged my head, and my ribs feel like Merilee's pony kicked me, but other than that, I think I'm . . ." and he hesitated, and grinned widely, "what word do you want me to use instead of 'fine'?"

She reached out and gently stroked that rusty head of hair, "that'll work, dear, if it's the truth!"

Ian looked with fond amusement down at the younger man leaning up against his chest, now with Ian's arms gently encircling him and then looked up to meet his sister's eyes. He was looking a bit sheepish, and Meghada had to wonder at what. Then, her eyes widened and she didn't wonder anymore, but her grin got wider, and she let out a little chuckle of appreciation. {"The ways of the Sweet Mother can be most effective but exceedingly abrupt sometimes!"}

"Now what do we do?" Jeffrey asked, and they proceeded to pass the time as best they could. And considering, it was really not a bad time, overlooking the lack of anything to drink, or eat, or the musty, dusty quality of the air, or the ordeal in front of them, or the danger still facing them if the whole lot decided to come crashing in on them. Still, they all remembered that proverbial mouse and felt better of their situation.

So Ian told stories about the mischief he'd gotten into, and stories about his sisters and other brothers, and stories about his pilot's training. Meghada told a bit, not much, letting this time be one of the other two learning about each other. Jeffrey told about his sisters, Charlotte the musician, Sophy the artist, Claudia the aspiring actress , Merilee the promising equestrian, and his brothers, David the ten year old accident-prone gymnast, Kyle the scholar who took after their father, Louis the one who wanted to breed horses. And his parents.

"And he was a quiet boy, they say, quiet and withdrawn and of a meditative nature, only passionate about two things; his studies in Celtic history, and the redhaired spitfire who was their closest neighbor's youngest daughter. His parents bemoaned both passions. They were solidly English, never a drop of anything else sullying their bloodlines, and never a scholar among them either, to disgrace their ranks, and certainly not one who aspired after learning about pagan savages!" Jeffrey grinned wickedly at them as he said that.

"And their neighbors, while solidly respectable, while they considered themselves English, the woman's grandmother had been one Fionna Fergus, of the Fergus Clan of the Scottish Highlands." He was tending to his story, didn't see the look of total glee exchanged by the other two, the Fergus Clan and the O'Donnells having more than a few cross-overs in their long and interesting histories.

"The youngest daughter many considered a savage throwback, riding the wildest of horses without benefit of saddle or bridle, never willing to even hear the mention of a sidesaddle. She had wilful untamed red hair, never able to be confined within a circlet or net, and she had never been willing to cover it with a kerchief or cap, looking at you aghast if you suggested such a thing. And her temper!!!"

"Still, he adored her, and had from when he was a small boy. She looked at him with fondness, and amusement, and tolerance, til the time when she looked at him and realized somehow he had become vital to her. It was then that they took themselves off for Gretna Green, to be wed before the anvil there, before the parents could start looking around for prospective marriage partners for each of them. Yes, their parents raged and moaned and placed blame, but the two were not to be swayed."

"When he went to university, at only 17, he left her, just 16, a bride of but six months, behind with his oldest sister, who found the match to be annoying enough to her parents to give them her full support. He spent his years there being told taking a wife so young would destroy that spark of genius he had in him, that there was only so much fire within a man and he was wasting it on lust when he could be holding it against the work he was meant to be doing. He just smiled and nodded absently, focused on his studies in order to get through all the quicker and return to his firebrand, and ignored them all."

"She spent the time learning the domestic arts and how to navigate the social spheres and whatever else the tolerant sister chose to teach her, not so sure she'd be using them, but willing to learn, as long as no one tried to prevent her from riding hell-bent or climbing trees and cliffs, cursing the air blue, and just being herself, and her new sister-in-law found her amusing enough to indulge her, along with the pleasure of putting a crimp in the parents' composure. My Aunt Edith DID NOT, and still doesn't, get along with their parents, and that's a story in itself, but for another telling. Anyway, they both reasoned, my mother, firebrand that she was, that was who he'd wanted, who he had pursued for so long, why should she try to change that now, be someone different when he returned for her?"

"And he returned, his education completed in little more than half the time most would have taken for the same degree, his contacts in place for him to continue his research, his writing, and brought her to the manor house he'd procured with his inheritance from his uncle and grandfather, and it is said, his propensity for poker and a few less reputable games like hazard and dicing. There, ignoring the gasps and whispers and murmurs, they built their life, the scholar and the wild child, her delighting in his gentle ways and earnest loving, him delighting in her fierceness and determined claiming of him. And, they haven't changed, not so very much, that I can tell, from the stories I've heard."

"They'll like you, Ian, be quite pleased with you for me; they'll like both of you, I know," and he smiled at them in calm assurance, and they smiled back.

Meghada shook her head, and had to wonder inside. {"I think back on the angst, the trauma, the worry and anxiety, the doubt and self-doubt with me and my lads. Can it truly be this easy?"} and she looked at the gawky redhaired man laying so at home in her brother's arms, Jeffrey's hands now atop those warm embracing arms, and thought {"you know, sometimes it just might be! Thank you, Sweet Mother!!"}

"Ian," Jeffrey asked, "how old are you?"

"Nineteen, though with our Clan, we're rather older than those years might indicate, and you?"

Jeffrey gave a rueful laugh, "twenty-three, though I'm usually thought to be younger. Not so much a difference though," seeming somewhat relieved.

"Not really a difference at all," came the murmured reply, and she watched her brother pull the OLDER man into a tighter grasp.

"Better try and doze a bit if you can, lads," she recommended, with a knowing smile, and if they didn't doze, still they were snugged up tight against each other, and were quite content.

***

They heard the shouts, an obviously anxious and somewhat frustrated Major Kevin Richards, and Meghada answered, her having the forward position and probably more carrying range with her voice. She let them know about the dangers, especially from what ever infernal machine they had in the building to the back that kept destabilizing everything. She could hear Kevin yelling to someone to '"go have that *@*#&*@* thing shut down!" She couldn't remember hearing the officer actually curse before, more than just a word or two; somehow, it just didn't sound natural coming from him.

Having ascertained they were relatively uninjured, they were firmly directed to "stay put", at which they rolled their eyes at each other since, duh!, and waited til the messenger came back.

"We're coming in, and yes, we'll be careful! We've more help on the way." So they huddled together, wincing at the occasional crash, clang, slussshhh as mounds of paper and books slid to the floor, til an opening widened, and there were the welcome faces of Kevin Richards, Patrick O'Donnell and James Garven, and for some reason, Sergeant Major Gil Rawlins.

Eager hands pulled them out, carefully, and assisted them to the ambulance waiting in the street beyond.

"Mr Davinelli?" Private Ames asked.

Kevin Richards hesitated then shook his head, "I'm sorry, he was killed by the falling debris."

Ames looked sorrowful, "maybe it's for the best; that collection was his family; to lose that, I don't know that he'd have wanted to live to see that happen."

Mehada laid her hand over his gently, "maybe we can save some of it, brother, in his memory; we'll try, anyway," and looked up at Ian, who smiled solemnly at her, "yes, Jeffrey, we'll try." But just then, they heard, felt the huge crash, as the building itself came crashing down, and now smoke and flames as the resulting fire caught with abandon.

She looked toward Jeffrey with dismay, only to see a sad but accepting smile.

"Seems his family decided to go with him; maybe they'll set up shop wherever they're headed," earning him a one-armed hug from Ian. She dropped a kiss on each of their cheeks as they were chivied into the ambulance by older brother Patrick.

Richards looked from one to the other of the three, wondering just what he was missing, for it was obvious he was missing something. Finally, he just shrugged, feeling in the dark, but knowing it for a familiar feeling where the O'Donnells were concerned. 

And, yes, when Private Ames got his first pass for enough time to make the trip back home, Ian and Meghada traveled with him, and indeed, the parents and the others still at home were MOST pleased, found it a good match indeed, and welcomed them both as family.


End file.
